Life with Loss
by m7star
Summary: What is a life without loss? What I thought of in the car. 50 years after Inheritance, and something is stirring up the people of Alagesia. Please read and review, I know this is a very short summary, but this is my only story where the chapters are over 1,000 words!
1. Prolouge-Tears of Regret

**A/N This is what I think about whit I'm in the car. I cane up with this while listning to Adele, and I was wondering what you guys thought. This could end up being a series, but only if you guys think so. Please review and tell me what you think! If you don't Angela will show up at your school and embarass you! **

**Just so you know, I write short chapters, under 1,000 words mainly. This is my first one over that! YAY! I don't know why, I just do. Please no flaming, but do review and tell me if I should continue!**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" OR the Inheritance Cycle. I'm not CP or Robert Frost. If I was Robert Frost, I'd be either really old or dead and if I was CP I'd be busy working on the next book and the books would be a million times shorter.**_

She breathed in the sharp scent of pine. A leaf falling, the rustle of the trees all reminded her of him. She broke into a dead sprint, away from the clearing. She arrived at her destination within moments. A large cliff faced her, tall and daunting. Her hands shook as she reached for the first handhold, but she ignored it. She instead focused on the breathing. Short, uneven sobs came from her mouth. Still she pushed on.

She stood atop the pinnacle of red stone, gazing out at the wide expanse of forest before her. She slowly turned in a circle, breathing in the fresh air. The sound of rushing water assaulted her ears brought back everything she had been holding back. The color of the sky brought forth what was inside of her; his eyes as he flew above the clouds, as he shared a joke, in the midst of battle, as she rejected him...

"How?! Why?! I..." Her anger drained from her lips as she felt the reassuring touch of a mind she knew better than her own. _How hard it is to truly know one's self. _She knew why and how, but wasn't willing to admit it to herself. He was her biggest mistake, the one she would go back and fix if she could. She turned her gaze to the elven capital. How could she go back? They were there, the young elven twins.

To the north there was only forest, a continuation of what was before her. More evergreens lay that way, as far as her elven eyes could see. In that direction was her birthplace, where she had sworn she would never return to. Under the crown of a mighty pine, she was born. Her birthplace was something no one knew about. No one living, anyways.

Her gaze turned to the direction of the capital of the Empire. Her emerald eyes softened and became moist as her memories returned to haunt her, in small flashes. That which had been and could have been. That which was. In her mind's eye she saw the fallen, their empty eyes fixed behind her on something she couldn't see. One particular pair of brown eyes that should not have been there made her breath catch in her throat, though you wouldn't know it from observing her stance. Her grace was comparable to that of a mountain cat, and remained even now as she crouched on the flat top of the rock.

She could relax in his company, something that was rare. He was always surprising her with his depths. For a warrior, he had no cruelty and was not hard, but had the gentleness of a farm boy. For a farm boy, he was too educated, noble, and philosophical. For a philosopher, he was eager to get out there and help, not sit at a desk all day. Indeed, the only classification for him was one in which she belonged to now as well. They would have been perfect, but she was not ready for that, not willing to lower her walls enough for him to gain a spot in her heart as she had in his.

How could it have worked, with their responsibilities? It was impossible, she asked herself. Be reasonable. But the truth was they could have made it work. They'd accomplished harder things together. He would have never given up, no matter what the odds were. That's what made him different from others. They could see that something was impossible and set themselves a new task. Not him. He was the perfect mixture of both races. For his immortality, he still felt the grasp of time, the urgency of deadlines. Yet he was willing and able to accomplish anything he set his mind to. Immortality could be a blessing and a curse at the same time, causing you to lose sight of the simple pleasures in life. Loss is the flavor of life, for without it you can never appreciate the blessings you have.

"Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay."

A wise elf once told her. She should have listened. For she had fallen prey to the one weakness of her kind, trapping out all emotions. Elves were by far the most secretive of all races. They treated emotional displays with disgust. But we noticed something too late, she realized. Without hate you cannot have love. Without loss, what is the gift of life? She was a monster, not able to feel a thing.

And she had been happy like that. Then he came along and turned her world upside down. With him she could feel again, which made the loss of him all the more painful. He changed her life forever.

And she had rejected him. Twice.

The elf sat on the rock and wept, the salty tears of regret.

**Yeah man, 1,022 words!**


	2. Chapter 1-On Aleiana

Chapter 1-On Aleiana

**A/N Yes! Another over 1,000 words! I'm so happy! Anyways, thank you all ****for**** reviewing. I was wondering which story I should update most often, so I set up a poll in my profile, so please take it. Also, I am going to leave the ****prologue**** how it is, because Mark ****Silverwing**** pointed out something and I decided I liked it. If the spelling is wrong, please tell me the correct spelling, but I don't know how to do the funky dots above each letter, so they probably won't be there. The directions are the same as IRL and I'm not sure that is correct, but oh well. So... anyways... I hope you enjoy! Please review!  
**

The sound of swords clashing filled the arena. A bead of sweat dripped down Eragon's face. He parried and stepped back a half step. The hooded figure in front of him advanced and swung again. She was getting good. She swung again, this time at his feet. He jumped to the side, and saw his opening. He lunged to her left and his sword point landed on her collarbone.

"Very nice, but you should work on your defense. Blödhgarm can help you there." Eragon said, signaling the elf over. His opponent removed her hood and looked up.

"Yes, Ebrithil." She said, sheathing her sword and walking over to the other side of the arena with the blue-furred elf. Eragon avoided looking at her face. Her green eyes, her hair black as night, it was all too much for him.

_Sahpira__ when will I get over her? __Lilja__ is not the same as Arya. _Just thinking the name brought back a thousand memories of her. In battle she looked like a beautiful bird of prey, noble, fierce, majestic. She was like Firnen in battle. So closed to everyone, it made him wonder. Then there were those moments she opened up, like a lily, waiting to make its brilliance known to the world.

_Little one, I do not know. __Firnen__ and I... That is different._

Eragon was about to reply when Dominicus and Ugolo approached him.

"Ebrithil, we have a question. We were wondering if maybe..." Dominicus faded off, looking a little uncomfortable.

"We were wondering if we could write a book with all of the Uragla stories in it. We don't have one here in Du Welden Skulblaka, Firesword." Ugolo finished.

_It would be a good project and it might keep them out of trouble..._ "Yes, that sounds like a very good idea. I believe you know where to get more paper and ink?" They both nodded. "Well, I'm anxious to see how it turns out." They headed off to the dormitories. After reaching a certain level in their training, they were allowed to sing their quarters into a shape more pleasing to them. The dwarves and Urgals had a harder time with this, while the elves were often already adept at this practice.

Eragon gazed up at the mountains. When they had first discovered this island, after finding a series of large, black rock spires jutting up from the sea about one day's flight away, the eldunari had become silent. As it so happened, a large storm recently had killed all of the predators on the island, leaving the prey on the island to overpopulate and destroy a delicate ecosystem. The new dragons filled the gap nicely, Saphira noted while digesting three of the _ganzell_, as the elves named them. They resembled deer, but were thinner, hardier, and came in all colors imaginable.

The island was very large, larger than Vroengard. It had a large ring of mountains surrounding the center, a vast fertile plain. The mountains were not as tall as the Beors but taller than the Spine. There was only one break in the formidable ring of mountains, and that was a sheltered cove where many sea creatures came to raise their young. This was where the _Aeidail _landed in the morning. On the other sides of the mountain there was a dense tropical forest and on the other side a desert. To the north there were more mountains.

All in all, the island of Aleiana, as the elves had seen fit to name it, was a very diverse place. From the snow-topped mountains in the east, to the scorching heat of the desert to the south, and the oasis in the center, there was plenty of room for both bonded dragon and those who were not. The ganzell preferred the plains on either side of the cove and the center oasis. In the mountains where lived a type of wild goat, hardier than the normal variety. However, the tropical forest was the least explored of the regions in Aleiana. The forest was always dark and the air humid. Eragon had tried to explore on dragon back, but was unable to see anything on the forest floor. However, sometimes in the night they heard yowls coming from that direction.

Eragon shook his head and headed back to his house. His house was not in the city, per say. Instead he and Sahpira resided in a large tree that was connected to a cave up high in the mountains. Eragon had sung the tree to resemble the style of Ellesmera, and Saphira had found the cave. She had been getting very tired then, and had wanted to have a safe home. She then found out she was going to lay an egg, and had Eragon fix up her cave to her precise standards.

_You'd feel the same, and you know it!_

_I'm not a female! I wouldn't be as worried..._

She still treated Ragnook like her baby, even though he was bonded to a rider of his own. He was currently in Illeria, but Eragon thought he would be in Ellesmera most of the time, visiting Firnen. When he told Arya that her dragon was a father, he thought she might just cry of happiness. Indeed, she did, with tears of happiness. Ragnook was very outgoing and impulsive, whereas Isma was calmer and more willing to think things through. They were w vary good match, and would be very helpful.

Eragon stopped in front of the few decorations he had in his home. His gaze swept over the familiar landscape of Carvahall, Roran and Katrina, Selena, and... Arya. Nothing had changed. 50 years and he was still infatuated. Her emerald eyes gazed out at him, gazing into his very soul with an intensity no one else could manage. He stroked the fairth, reminiscing.

Then his mirror started shining green, red, and gold. He rushed over to the mirror and muttered the spell to accept the call. An image of Nasuada, Arya, Orrin, Nar Garzhvog, and Orik sitting at the table in Illeria flickered into existence.

"Eragon, I'm afraid we have a problem..."


	3. Chapter 2- Menace of the North

Chapter 2- The Menace of the North

**A/N The spelling may be off, but… Another over 1,000! I'm soo excited! I gave everyone a color last chapter. Nasuada was crimson, Orik gold, Nar is purple, Arya green, ect. Please read and review!**

"Eragon, I'm afraid we have a problem. Someone is attacking the villages in the north, above Ceunon. We don't know who it is, but whoever it is seems to have a fondness for terror. We would like your advice." Nasuada stated in an even tone.

She stared at his face. The years had not touched him. His warm brown eyes enveloped her. She was completely unaware of her surroundings. The only thing that mattered was Eragon. He was here, she was safe. There was no mysterious man terrorizing northern Alagesia, no pressure from the elven lords. Everything was well in the world.

"Arya, what do you propose we do about this 'Terror of the North'?" Nasuada asked, jolting her out of her revive. She was saved from answering by Angela, arriving in the counsel room with a cup of some mysterious steaming liquid.

"What about my ideas? Does anyone want to hear _my _ideas? Anyone?" She said. Eragon cracked a smile. Orik and the Nar bellowed, and Nasuada pressed her lips together and tried in vain not to laugh.

"Well, Angela, to be honest, your ideas do scare me a little. Like the time you had me try that tea you had just made. Sorry, but that was _terrible_!" Eragon said.

They all remember that one. Eragon had stumbled around camp for an hour trying to find something to remove the taste from his mouth. Nasuada and Eragon laughed, and she even smiled a little. He was still the same, never really appearing to be worried. Firnen was the same. Angela even looked a little embarrassed.

"Anyways, I think we should send a Rider out to stay at Ceunon and to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. If we can get a description of this man and what forces he has under his command, we can fix this conundrum." Angela tapped the side of her nose.

"Actually, I have already commissioned Lord Däthedr to investigate. I can attempt to contact him, if that would prove helpful." She said.

"I have sent one of my top soldiers as well, with orders to seek out Lord Däthedr and attempt to aid him as possible." Nasuada added.

"Well, what are we waiting for, the forest to grow? Let's contact them! Do I have to do everything myself these days?" Angela said impatiently.

Angela set up the spell in the mirror facing Eragon at the other side of the room. She muttered the traditional words, "Dream stare" and then added to the spell so they could talk to each other. Soon the image of a noble elfin lord appeared.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin." He said, touching the tips of his fingers to his lips. "Lady Nasuada, King Orik, Eragon-elda, Nar Garzhvog, Queen Arya. I bring grave news for the citizens of Carvahall, especially Lord Roran and Lady Katrina. This "Menace of the North", as he has named himself, claims to have been slighted. He told me his name is Octavio, and that he is the son of Galbotorix."

A dead silence filled the room. Then Angela spoke up. "He must have had hundreds of them, why is this _Octavio _so special?"

"He claims to have been given the right to succeed his father and assume the throne. He was raised in Urû'baen, and that Galbotorix himself has made him untouchable. He captured your scout, Lady Nasuada, and stood unarmed. The scout charged him with a broadsword, but the sword bounced back. The man is dead, my Lady." His tone was colored with regret.

"He has forgotten something. I know the name of the Ancient Language. I can remove his wards. He will be defenseless. What did he say about Roran?" Eragon looked furious. His eyes were blazing with absolute fury.

"He said that if Nasuada does not abdicate the throne within one month, he will march on Carvahall and capture the Lord and Lady. From there he is willing to attempt to take the throne by force if necessary. He also mentioned he will not take prisoners." The noble elf stated his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Everyone in the room hardened their hearts. 50 years of peace had dulled the pain of loss all of them still felt. The war was over, but the dead were still dead. All of them had lost someone close to them, some more than others. She thought about her father, her mother, Faolin…Eragon. Though he was not dead, indeed he was observing her now, she had lost him. He was away, not on the continent. He was the one other person she could trust completely, other than Firnen.

_Relax, little one. We still have time. If all else fails, I can go in and roast them all. Then you will have no more problems. _Firnen said, even though she could feel his constant longing for his mate.

"He seems to want a fight. With me. He'll get one, if that's what he wants." Eragon's voice was low and cold. He was not a man who reveled in war, but one who understood its necessity. He was, however, a man who loved very deeply, deeper than himself. A love she did not deserve.

She could feel her face slipping back into an expressionless mask, shutting out all emotions. Nar Garzhvog uttered a single, low growl. Orik tightened his grip on his battle axe.

"I'm afraid we have no choice, Firesword. You must return to Alagesia." The Nar put to words what was going through everyone's minds at that moment.

After addressing practicalities, they all prepared themselves to leave. As she was getting ready to stand up, Eragon called out to her.

"Arya Drotting, please do not leave quite yet. I need your advice." He said in a guarded tone. She sat, facing his mirror.

"Yes, Eragon-ethribl?"

"I don't believe I've told anyone besides Saphira this. Three people have told me something that is now nagging me in the back of my mind. They all said the same, that I shall leave Alagesia and never return. One was a simple soldier, one of the Ra'zac, and Angela said that when I had my fortune read. Will that hinder my return, do you think?"

"I think that the only hindrance would be your own mental state. What was the exact wording?"

"I shall leave Alagesia and never return."

"Well, as everything is constantly changing, every day you awake you have traded on Alagesia for another. Also, you have the Word, do you not?"

"Yes, you have a point… How is Firnen? How _have _you been? You seemed a little out of it." His brow furrowed.

"Very good, thank you. He asked you to pass on his love to Sahpira and tell her how proud he is of his son and mate."

Eragon laughed a little. "Still as good at avoiding the question as always, I see. How are _you, _Arya?"

She sighed. He never gave up. "Fine."

"The Lords still giving you trouble?"

"Indeed."

And son it went on, Eragon asking the questions until she lightened up a little.

"What about Faolin? Do you miss him?" The question came out of nowhere. She stiffened.

"I'm sorry, I really must go." He looked very disappointed, but bade her goodbye with good grace. She retired to her rooms, a net of confused feelings and contradicting thoughts.


	4. Chapter 3- The Tempest

Chapter 3 – The Tempest

**A/N Yay another over 1,000 words! I'm so happy! **

Eragon awoke, the sour taste of fear for a loved one in his mouth, his limbs tangled up in the sheets. Her name was on his lips, he must have been talking in his waking dreams. He had been doing that a lot lately. His waking dreams were filled with visions of Arya, both from the war and in an everyday setting. Sometimes they were good dreams, ones he awoke from happy and content. At least until he realized were she was. He knew subconsciously that she was safe, and that kept him content. However, he hadn't been happy, truly _happy_, since he left his homeland. Other times he awoke in a frenzy, twisting away from attackers visible in his mind's eye.

He stood up and stretched. He stepped out and gazed in the direction of Alagesia. A dark blue-gray expanse of clouds smothered the rising sun. A bolt of lightning struck over open waters, sending up a spray of water large enough to see miles away with the naked elven eye. The sky thundered darkly, as if scolding the world. Saphira would have to brave it if they were to return to Alagesia.

Thoughts of Alagesia filled his mind. Then thoughts of Arya, Roran, Katrina, Nasuada, the Nar, Orik and his wife came into the picture. A flash of emerald green fire appeared high above his head. A loud bellow sounded and Saphira responded instantly. She leapt into the air to greet her mate. His friends were alive, the same as when he last saw them. Arya looked up, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Her eyes met his, with a depth immeasurable. That is how he imagined his landing in Alagesia, surrounded by his friends and family. Surrounded by love, the purest emotion.

He washed, shaved, and dressed. He grabbed Saphira's saddlebags and hurried out to their meeting place, the rocks. They were a trio, standing erect, facing the east. He often went there to watch the sunrise and reminisce. For however much he wanted to deny it, he missed Alagesia. His home and his friends, his birthplace, his father's grave, everything he had ever known was there. How strange and rewarding it was to finally say those words, _my father._ For most of his life he had lived in ignorance of his parentage. His mother was a wonderful woman, his father the most honorable man. It filled him with a sense of pride, something that all children take for granted.

_Not I, _he thought as he saddled Saphira. _I have learned to appreciate everything life gives me. For how would you appreciate the sweet without the sour? _This thought, he decided, would be how he would live his life. His would be filled with anguish and sorrow, true, but also with love, caring, and acceptance. His would be a life with loss.

He bade farewell to everyone, and then they leapt off the rocks. The cold air rushed past the lengthened tips of his ears, filling him with a sense of exhilaration. There was rain in the air, a dampness that for some reason filled him with an uneasy sensation in his gut. This was something unnatural about this storm. There was an aura of magic surrounding this tempest.

_Glaedr, is that possible? I know only a really strong magician can influence the natural world. _Eragon asked the Eldunari, traveling in Saphira's left saddlebag. They had brought ten Eldunari with them, some elders who wanted a little excitement, some young, and some that recovered from Galbotorix's evil spells. These of the latter were intensely grateful to Eragon and Saphira, so as a result demanded to come along to lend their strength in times of need, were there any. And seeing as they were facing a menace never heard of before, there might be need for their assistance and wisdom.

_If one had stored enough energy, then yes, it stands to reason that they could, in fact, produce a storm such as this one. However, I am willing to bet that there was a smaller storm forming anyways, which served as a building block. Though I am willing to bet that it functions the same as any other storm. We should observe the pattern and look for a safe route. Saphira, please hover here._

They observed the mass of twisting, intertwining tendrils of cloud for a while. They saw no pattern, until a bird appeared. This bird was a pure white swan, an angel of a bird. Quickly they trailed the swan, observing an interesting truth. The bird seemed to know instinctively which paths were safe for the dragon. The bird reminded him of another creature of instinct, another majestic creature, one who always seemed to know what to do to stay safe, to survive, to win. Another who led them through many dangerous situations. Arya.

They soon reached the epicenter of the storm, the calm, still air allowing Saphira to rest her wings for a short amount of time. It was midday now, and Eragon was getting hungry. He ate from his right saddlebag, which held his food and some of his clothing. The rest of his clothes were in the left of Saphira's tail. She had grown in the last half a century, and was not more than twice the size the was when they left Alagesia, for what they thought would be forever.

Now they were returning, something Eragon had thought was impossible. However, what Arya had said made sense. Even Alagesia had a true name. However, overthrowing Galbotorix after his long reign of evil would have changed the land irrevocably, altering the true name of the land. Thus the only effect those words spoken long ago had on him were a slight feeling of doubt about his ability to land in Alagesia. However, he felt he had already triumphed over their words. Although they still, in times of need and self-doubt he remembered their words. But they were wrong. For there it was, the land of his birth.


	5. Chapter 4- A Pair of Dancing Flames

Chapter 4- A Pair of Dancing Flames

**A/N I know that last chapter wasn't as good, and I plan to edit soon. I was in a hurry to post it. However, I still want reviews please!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Inheritance, Arya would have come to her senses sooner and Eragon probably would have been put through more hardships to make Arya realize his true worth and all the delicate sub-plots would have been forgotten or confused. In other words, I'm not CP!**

A loud roar tore through the storm clouds, answered by Firnen in an instant, for there was only one dragon that could belong to. Saphira burst out of the belly of the clouds, soaring high to meet her mate. She separated my mind from Firnen's, allowing the two dragons a moment of privacy. Instead her eyes flitted up, to the Rider on Saphira's back.

He was very fit, agile. That was to be expected. But he was the same as the day she had last seen him in person. He had not aged a day, not physically. The only thing different was his eyes. In theme there was wisdom, speaking of all he had seem There was a great sadness in them that spoke of the atrocities of war, but also a great kindness for the everyday. They were the eyes of a Dragon Rider, one who has lived. One who has walked in both darkness and light. They had the experience of a lifetime, for although he was less that a century old he had listed to the memories of a thousand. He knew sorrow, and joy, pain and healing. Then they flicked to hers. They burned with in incredible passion, one that would never die, never fade, only grow stronger every day for the rest of his life. The depth of his love for her was a great chasm, the depth unknown, impossible. Indeed, he had never stopped loving her.

She felt his mind brush hers. _We should land soon. Then we can give Saphira a chance to rest and remove her saddle. _She agreed, then sent him a picture of their camp, in a clearing about half a mile away. She alerted Firnen, and through him Saphira, and they headed back to camp.

With practiced movements, as soon as Saphira landed Eragon jumped off her back and removed the saddle. She removed Firnen's saddle as well, and he alerted his mate of his most recent kill. The two dragons flew away, leaving Eragon and Arya alone. As part of a silent understanding Arya lit a fire with magic while Eragon sorted through his things. He then sat, leaning against the trunk of a beech tree by the fire. She tended the fire a little longer, then sat back as well, tracing glyphs in the dirt. _The mysteries of life are never finished._

"The last time we did something like this, sat around a fire, a spirit came and we invented a new type of flower." Eragon said, chuckling to himself a little. "How are the golden lilies doing, by the way?"

She grinned and replied, "Quite well, in fact. They have proved to be very resilient, and most have disregarded them as myth and legend."

"No wonder. I would have, as well, if not for the other stranger things I have seen and heard. What have you heard of Angela recently?"

"Not much, although last she said she was going to open a shop on Eoam."

Their conversation continued as such, Eragon asking about things in Alagesia, until the early evening, all the while his deep, open eyes studying her closely. She wondered what he was thinking of, if he could see her hardships on her face. The pressures on her to do this or that. She never wanted the throne.

She thought of Firnen, of how little he knew about his race, although being one of the oldest in physical form. His son knew more then him. The little she knew she shared with him but it was not enough. How could it ever be enough? She knew what he felt, being more at home with another race. Feeling uncomfortable among his own people. That was a fate she wished on no person, not even Galbotorix. She contemplated abdicating the knotted oaken throne and allowing one better suited to rule over her race. She thought about returning with Eragon to Aleiana. Then she asked him a question.

"What of you? I have heard great things of Aleiana." She gazed deep into his soft brown eyes.

"The city... The city is guarded by two dragons of marble, at the front gates of the harbor.  
It is a sprawling affair, with people adding on their own residences after they reach a certain proficiency in magic. However, the island provides plenty of distractions and places for the wild dragons to mate, nest, or hide. There are about 100 wild dragons at the time Saphira and I left." Eragon's eyes took on a dreamlike quality as he reflected on his home. "Aleana...is a place like no other. There are many climates and environments, all beautiful in their own right."

Eragon stood and stretched. "Care for sparing? I've been practicing." He said, cracking a smile. She nodded her ascent and they prepared their blades. Eragon readied Brisinger even as Arya did Tamerlin. They took up stances opposite each other. She took a moment to study his face, then lunged. He parried in an instant, and his skill became known. Although his skill was much improved, she was also better. The hours spent trying to drown out her fears, frustration, and anger were becoming useful.

_A sunlight grove, dappled sunlight on blades. The perfume of summer surrounding her. Finally, a place where her animal frustration could be released. Others sculpted, painted, inscribed their feelings in paper, wood. Some grew marvelous things of magic. Not her, no._ _She was born in battle, full of blood and anger and revenge, and battle saved her. Battle allowed her to release her emotions in a way nothing else could. The art of politics was not for her, no. She needed something else, something different. Something for a Dragonrider. The place for dragons is not at a throne. Dragons cannot be contained, for they are wild like her._

There they fought, friend against friend, like a pair of dancing flames, each tiring at the same rate, neither a match for the other.


	6. Chapter 5- You Are Not Alone

**You Are Not Alone**

**A/N Finally another chapter! Yay! It's a new record for me! Cookies for everyone who reviews and/or gets the Pellinor reference!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything- not the fake names.**

The next morning Eragon awoke and saw, not to his surprise, that his companion was already awake and moving. He stretched and accepted his breakfast from Arya. Saphira had returned after his spar with Arya, and both dragons proceed to curl around their Riders. As then dragons had eaten their fill, they planned to leave as soon as possible. They would fly through the Hadarac desert, on to Bullridge, where they would assume the gaze of Ksenia Stolarz and her cousin, Amos Salvai. From there they would head north, going around Gil'ead to Daret, then up to Carvahall where this Menace of the North was supposedly hiding.

Arya... She was behaving even more distant and preoccupied than usual. Something was up, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

As they made the final preparations he walked over to Arya. "What has happened to you, Arya?" he asked in an off-hand way. She stayed silent and brushed past him. They mounted their dragons and began the flight across the Hadarac Desert. The duration of the flight was spent in a game of riddles between Saphira, Firnen, and Eragon.

_What makes grown men cry, but humanity would go extinct without it?  
_

_"Love." _Arya said, the first time she had spoken that day.

* * *

As the sun fell and dusk approached, the foursome landed behind a large sand dune. They set up camp and Eragon drew up water. The dragons drank their fill then were about to sleep when they heard a faint chanting in the Ancient Language, corrupted as it was. The chanting spoke of a new reckoning, the coming of a new power, the rise and fall of great otherworldly forces, of a battle of fire and ice under the blood-red moon. A trail of lanterns appeared over the sandy ridge, then twisted in the direction of the very heart of the desert, where they vanished from sight.

As Eragon slept, images besieged him. Images of the carnage of war and the pain of loss, undiminished by the years past. Early the next morning they resumed their flight, and repeated the cycle again, until finally they could see the lights of Bullridge in the distance. The Riders dismounted their dragons and took their things. They would meet up again the following morning on the other side of the city, burdened with new supplies. After altering their apperances with magic Arya and Eragon ran in the direction of Bullridge.

They walked in the city gate and wandered around the streets, purchasing supplies. Eragon enjoyed haggling for the best price, and soon it was dark. They found a tavern called Magalorn's Inn.

"Might my cousin and I get a room for the night and food?" Eragon asked with. The innkeeper's wife nodded and accepted their money, then escorted them to a table. They ordered their food and settles down to watch the bard. Eragon was struck with a sudden pang of sadness as he remembered Brom doing much the same thing in Carvahall. The bard was telling of the Battle of Illeria.

The bard went into great detail of the combat- painting a vivid picture of the glory and honor of war. He told of how a brave group descended into the citadel traversed the many traps with the help of the witch-child Elva. They reached the throne room and defeated the king in combat with the noble, mighty Eragon Shadeslayer striking the evil king's head from his body, even as his elven consort did the same with the dragon-like abomination of Shruikan. Then it told of how Eragon and the elf he loved ventured off into the unknown.

Eragon could feel his cheeks growing warm as he glanced over at Arya, seated across from him. To his great relief she was absorbed in watching the innkeeper's children playing a game of knuckle bones. She abruptly stood up and exited the inn.

Eragon chased after her. "Arya, what was that?"

"It was nothing of consequence. Do not concern yourself in the affairs of others!" He realized how unsettled she was, as that reached him not only verbally but mentally as well, and apparently a good number of the passerby noticed. They received a good number of stares and rude remarks.

"Keep your woman contained!" One particularly beefy man said to Eragon with a wink.

Eragon dragged Arya back to the inn, where she sat at the large window all night.

* * *

The following morning, just before dawn the pair slipped out the northern gate of Bullridge. Once they were far enough away, Eragon pulled Arya aside.

"Arya, tell me what happened last night." Eragon's voice was slow and patient but forcefully. "You can trust me to keep your secret." This was said in the Ancient Language as brown eyes met green. Still she stayed silent. "You know my True Name, so even if I tried to tell someone you could make sure no one hears." _ This is clearly not working. _"Arya, I know the true you. Nothing you say will lessen my respect for you." Also in the Ancient Language, which struck a chord deep within Arya.

In a slow monotone she began to describe the situation in Ellesmera. The world of elven politics, usually easy to navigate for her, was getting harder and she feared she had backed herself into a corner. She was getting becoming less controlled, her walls cracking. Also weighing on her conscience is the lack of formal Rider training she lacked and Firnen's inexperience.

"He knows little about himself and his race, too little. And its my fault. If I had gone with you..." She began to weep silently. Eragon wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder, whispering the rest of her tale.

"A long time ago, on my first visit to the Varden, I came across a little boy with a huge gash across his face. He couldn't have been more than three years of age. He was in a lot of pain, so I healed him using magic. His mother rushed over to him, but I had already began the healing and couldn't stop. When I had finished, he hid among his mother's skirts. She accused me of attempting to replace him with a changeling and kidnapping him, then snatched up her son.

"Then, this year, after the meeting, I came across the boy I had healed. He said I had cursed him. He said his wife lost a child because of me and my magic."

Eragon remembered her reaction when Hope had been born with a cat lip, how she demanded he be the one to heal her. There was no reassurance he could give her that could heal a wound like that. So he did the best he could.

"You are not alone. You are never alone. You will always have me, Firnen, and Saphira. You are not alone."


	7. Chapter 6- Daret

Chapter 6- Daret

**A/N Almost 2,000 words! I'm on a roll! Arya's point of view, and her walls are almost entirely gone at this point.**

**Disclaimer: Durza is approaching, I'd better get this out into the open. I don't own the Inheritance Series. I wish...It's been on my Christmas list for a while now.**

The birds sang in the copse above my head. It seemed as though the world was singing with joy, my joy, the joy of understanding. This copse was the last stop before I assumed the guise of Ksenia Stolarz and we walked into Daret.

Daret had grown from the days when it was a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. 50 years of prosperity had turned the city from a way point to a destination. Now great buildings of learning stretched up into the clouds, and ordinary people discovered fulfillment in their work.

They entered the town with their ears rounded by magic at dusk. After purchasing more food, she and Eragon went to the nearest inn, The Hog's Ear.

_Why would one choose to eat a pig's ear when there is mead __to be__ had? _Firnen gave the mental approximation of a snort as Arya told him the name of their lodging.

_Why, the mighty, powerful dragon deigns to grace us with his opinion. _That was Eragon, grinning in her direction.

_If you wanted my opinion, you could have asked. _Saphira's tone was colored with smugness.

_I was under the impression __Firnen's__ company was all you desired. You are, after all, his mate, and the two of you have had plenty of time alone. _This was true, although Arya knew most of the time they were sharing memories of the last 50 years. She had talked for Firnen a little, as Saphira did through Eragon, but her duties and reluctance to see her mistakes had kept contact at a minimum.

_Well, seeing as I haven't talked to him in person for 50 years, I think I am entitled to a little selfishness. _Saphira made a fair point. She had been preoccupied anyways.

_I'm not complaining. _A wave of pure, unconditional love passed between the dragons.

"Ksenia, would you care for some mead?" Eragon asked politely with a grin on his face. "Our rooms are sorted, and they have a very good home brew, so I am told." His gaze flashed to the attractive serving girl who had been chatting him up for the last few minutes during their mind-meld. A surge of jealousy rushed up inside Arya. She pushed it down, smiled, and replied, "I would be delighted, Omar."

_What is happening to me?_

* * *

"With his companions the warrior traveled, from the shining shores of Lake Leona, to the harsh Hadarac Desert, to the emerald pines of Ellesmera." The bard's ballad ended, and the tavern-goers applauded.

Ayra whispered to Eragon, "The pines are not _emerald, _they are _forest _green. Honestly." It bothered her how many things humans got wrong about her kind. Although considerably less than during Galbotorix's reign, it was still astounding.

Eragon chuckled next to her, his third flagon of beer in his left hand. "I once heard Saphira described as 'a mighty azure beast with a flame the size of a house'. She is clearly sapphire, not in any way a beast, and her flame is much larger than a house."

They made a game, almost, of pointing out the flaws in the bard's telling.

"If that is how you feel, milady, milord, then please, you tell. Tell of the battle of the Burning Plains, as I am not fit." The bard said pointedly.

_What do you think, shall we engage them in a true retelling of the Battle of the Burning Plains? _Eragon grinned.

_I think we shall. _Arya smiled.

"Challenge accepted, my good man." They stood and walked to the center of the room.

"Acrid smoke stung the eyes of the Varden, assembled together. This day the truce with the Urgals was put to the test. While the Empire lay sleeping the Varden advanced across 3/4 of the no-man's-land that lay between the opposing forces. While alarms rang and the Empire scrambled to their feet, all heard Lady Nasuada's battle cry. 'To me men of the Varden!' She told them of how their homes and wives and children were at the mercy of Galbatorix's.

"As men and Urgals clashed on the field the Rider Eragon and Saphira hunted Galbatorix's magicians. Three times they slew the Empire's approaching ranks. The blood ran down Saphira's sapphire scales, turning her into a vision of fury, her majesty on the field of battle unmatched.

"But still the Empire advanced. Then a great host appeared on the east, headed by the dwarf king Hrothgar, brandishing his ancient war hammer Volund. From the west there also came a cry, one of the approaching ship on the Jiet river."

Here Arya cut in, allowing Eragon to breathe. "It was the infamous Palancar Pirates, headed by Roran Stronghammer. Eragon and Saphira exchanged words with Roran, Eragon's cousin with whom he had been raised with. They relayed the news to the Varden's spell casters, telling them not to harm anyone on that ship."

Eragon, now recovered, continued his story. "From there Eragon exchanged words with King Hrothgar, his clan leader and adoptive kin. The king commented on Eragon's transformation in Ellesmera, and thanked Saphira for her vow to heal the star sapphire in the center of Tronjheim. The battle began to turn in the Varden's favor, aided by the effort of the herbalist Angela's poisons slipped in the officer's cups that night. The day progressed, with very little changing. The Palancar Pirates began launching fiery javelins at the Empire's camp.

"Then, a drumbeat sounded above the warring armies. The field stilled as everyone looked in search of the source of the sound. But it was, in fact, not a drum. It was the wings of another dragon."

Arya took up the narrative. "It was the blood-red dragon Thorn, and his Rider Mugtagh. Thorn's body glowing like a bed of coals, he dove down and his Rider struck the dwarven king with a ball of ruby energy, despite the best efforts of the dwarf magicians. Orik, Hrothgar's heir took command of the troops, angered even more by the death of their monarch. Determined to avenge his clan mate, Eragon and Saphira leapt into the air where they chased down Eragon's former friend."

The bard interrupted. "That's mostly true, although I'm sure much of it has been exaggerated. One part you left out was how Arya Drottningu gazed on the blue Rider with concern."

Arya felt herself blush, but was saved in responding as Eragon answered, "Is that really essential to the story?"

The bard replied indignantly. "Yes, how could it not be? It's the beginning of the love epic between the elf Arya and Eragon Bromsson."

"I was not aware of there being any 'love epic' between the two." Now Eragon was blushing as well.

"Well, even you must know of how Eragon wooed her while among the elves." The bard inspected his fingernails while muttering under his breath. "Who doesn't know of that? Everyone who had ever seen the two together knew they belonged together."

"I'm glad you see women as things to be wooed. Are we not capable of deciding for ourselves who our mate will be?" Arya practically spit out the words. _How _dare _he! He has no idea of the pressures I was under! No one __understands__! _Firnen nudged her mind, and sent her a picture of Eragon, his brown hair blowing in the breeze, and easy smile on his face.

Eragon must have sensed her fury at being addressed that way because he continued with his tale. "The dragons continued their midair duel, and Eragon leapt off Saphira's back in order to mark Thorn. Saphira swooped beneath him, scolded him, and continued fighting. Eragon soon realized how pointless it would be to continue and landed. The Riders engaged in a duel. Eragon recognized the fighting style and removed the helm of his former friend, Murtagh. Murtagh told him what he had realized in Uru'baen. They were related. Murtagh bound Eragon in place and stole Zar'roc from him, claiming his inheritance. The Red Rider retreated with the rest of Galbatorix's army, for the Varden had won. That, my friends, is a completely true tale of the Battle of the Burning Plains." Eragon concluded and sat down.

The tavern-goers applauded, and the bard approached him. "How do you know what happened during the duel between Eragon and Murtagh?" He seemed generally puzzled.

"I'm a traveler at heart. If I can't do it in real life, I do it in research. Besides, if I told you I knew Eragon Shadeslayer would you really believe me?" Eragon said over his flagon.

The bard snorted and walked away.

"And that, Ar- Ksenia, is how you tell a good battle story." Eragon drank deeply. Arya chuckled.

Some burly men came over to their table. "We was wondering in you wanted to join our drinkin' contest, see'in as how you can tella good tale or two."

Eragon glanced at Arya. "What do you think Arya?"

She nodded her approval and the men waved the serving girl over. The serving girl brought her a glass of something. She realized how thirsty she was and downed the entire thing in one go. The men looked surprised, and she asked, "What?"

* * *

Arya giggled. Eragon shot her a confused look. "Have I never laughed before?"

_Firnen__, I _have _laughed around __Eragon__ at one point, right? _

She got no answer. She shrugged and reached for another glass of beer. Before she could reach it thought, Eragon's hand stopped hers.

"How many have you had, Ksenia?" He looked deeply into her eyes and answered himself. "Enough for tonight. Let's get you sorted, it's late and we have an early morning ahead of us." He pulled her to the stairs.

As soon as they were in their room and out of prying eyes he turned on her. "Arya, how much did you have to drink? What if you had blown our cover?"

That sobered her up. "I would never. I am not that naïve, I know what human beer does to people." She paused. "It would look strange for us to leave without a reason and I want to leave before dawn tomorrow. I provided the reason."

"You acted drunk so I would drag you up here?" Eragon's brow furrowed momentarily, then he smiled. "You're brilliant Arya!" He headed to his separate room, leaving Arya alone with her thoughts.

_The love epic of __Eragon__ and Arya? _She felt her walls rise up again. The last person she had felt this close to had perished in front of her, protecting her. Faolin would want her to be happy, wouldn't he? She banished the thought and slipped into her waking dreams.


	8. Chapter 7- A Thief In The Night

Chapter 7- A Thief In The Night

**A/N Hey, sorry for the long update- testing season and Netflix sapped my desire to do anything. Just so you know, the last bit is written in a different POV. As for last chapter, not as many reviews, boo... But as for the people who DID review, consider this chapter for you!**

**Disclaimer: I have a sinking feeling that if I owned Eragon Saphira wouldn't be eyeing me like that...**

As soon as they were a mile out of Daret, Saphira contacted Eragon.

_We are beyond the stream, in the cave on this mountain. _She sent him a picture of a cave not too far from their current postion. He sent her a wave of thanks and love. He sat down on a rock and waited for Arya to finish talking to Firnen. As he was going through his bag, he found a locket. The locket was a light silver, a metal only recently discovered on Alieana. On the front there was a picture of two sleeping dragons, one made of green egg shells and the other made of blue. It hung on a long chain of the same silvery material as before.

Arya walked over and sat down on a rock beside Eragon. "What is that?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"A locket, for you. Just a little something I made on Alieana." Eragon responded. He looped it around her neck. "Look inside."

She put a hand to her face. "My mother... It has been too long since I have seen her face." She looked up to Eragon. "I did mot know you had a picture of her."

"I don't. Well, I do, but that's not whats in there. It shows you what you most want to see." He looked away, embaressed.

"Elrun ono, Eragon-Argetlam." He looked up.

"You are most welcome, Arya Svit-kona." With one fluid move, Eragon picked up the heavier of the two packs and began walking in the direction of the cave Saphira had shown him.

* * *

After they had eaten and the dragons were out hunting, Eragon watched Arya pull out a large stack of papers with the Royal Seal of the elves on it. She opened it to the first page and began reading. As she read, he noticed how unsettled and impatient she seemed. She constantly shifted her position agains the wall of the cave and tapped her fingers restlessly against the floor. He scooted over to her and peered over her side at the page she was holding. It said, in finest caligraphy;

_...The men at Cenoron are getting restless. They want a decision as soon as possible..._

The letter trailed on about a land disagreement, and Eragon soon lost interest. As he studied Arya's face closely he noticed faint dark circles under her eyes. As her tapping reached a particularly fast tempo, he placed his hand firmly but gently over hers. He turned her face to his and peered deeply into her eyes while reaching out to her with his mind.

Her mind was full of intricate, dancing strains of music. The music was full of pent-up tension as she asked him what he was doing.

_Arya, just relax. Look at me. I'm going to help you._

He dove deep into her mind, determined to find the source of her anguish. He felt Firnen, who resonated with the same tension. But as he went deeper into her subconscious, he felt more. Guilt, regret... Something was bothering her deeply. Something that, he was sure, had not been there before.

But what had changed in the fifty years since he had last seen her? What would affect both dragon and Rider?

_Little One, dragons do not like to be restrained... _Saphira gently prodded. _And what is responsibility for a whole race but a restraint? She has been in Ellesmera for too long._

Eragon saw her point. She had to feel guilty for restraining Firnen as well, regretting her decision to lead the elves. He withdrew from her mind, and realized she had been gripping his hand tightly the entire time.

"I know this might be hard, but I think you should abdicate the throne. It isn't doing you or Firnen any good." He paused to observe her reaction. "In fact, I think you both should come with us to Alieana."

"I... will consider it." She looked down at their intertwined hands. "Thank you, Eragon"

He felt Firnen touch his mind. _Thank you for helping my Rider, Eragon._

_I'm only glad I could do something for her._

But then something small and round landed in their fire. It released a plume of light gray smoke that has Eragon choking. He heard Arya coughing next to him. Then everything faded to black as he heard Saphira roar.

* * *

He was the best. That was why they'd put him on the case. But now, as he looked for the first time at his prey, he didn't see what all the fuss was about. Just a male and a female- in good shape, but not aggressive looking at all. Just an ordinary young couple, it seemed.

If he was a normal human, he probably would have felt some form of remorse or guilt at bringing them to their death. But over the long years of training and mastery, he had conditioned it out of himself. He was in control of his emotions, utterly. He had seen the admiration in his underlings' eyes and felt nothing but contempt. After all, he wasn't the one making the decisions nor the executioner. He was only the messenger.

He crouched in the entrance of the cave. A quick glance showed two piles of bags in the corner and the dying embers of the fire. He straightened up and retrieved his disc from the fire. They had really never seen it coming. It was his own invention some chemicals that reacted violently with the air when released inside a container built to fail when placed in direct heat. He would have been quite proud of it.

He walked over to the bags and started sorting them out. Any food or clothing was to be left behind for the cavalry to clean up. Anything unusual was to be brought along to give to Them. The only things he located of interest were the swords and bows- one blue sword and one green sword, both dappled lightly and of highest quality. He placed them in his wagon along with the prey and began again north.


	9. Chapter 8- Myloto

Chapter 8- Myloto

**A/N Its finally summer! I'm so excited! Cookies for everyone! ****I hope you like this chapter. Myloto was inspired by Coldplay's Paradise, I would recommend listening to it. Please review! Review if you are excited for summer! Review if you don't like summer! Review if you are neither happy or sad about summer!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing... So sad...**

_She walked alone in among the battle, the only one moving. She saw the carnage of her youth, of the battle between Riders. As she walked, a low and mournful tune played across her mind. She saw two dragons fighting and knew in her heart that they were father and daughter. She saw their fight of exponential power and watched as the green daughter dragon struck the dying blow, even as the black father swung his massive paw at her and broke her neck._

"Arya." She awoke to the whispered sound of Eragon's voice. "Arya, wake up. We must have been drugged because I can't use magic to open the door or contact Saphira."

She looked around and found herself in a dark, damp stone cave. Three long cracks ran along the far wall, and there was a plethora of thick iron bars running vertically instead of a wall where the door was. She shifted her weight and peered behind the bars. They were in what looked like a secondary tunnel, lit every few feet with torches, with a larger tunnel on the right side parallel to the right edge of the cell they were held in. Along the walkway there were several alcoves with serpentine figures inside them. In the cell directly in front of them there was a beam of light streaming in from an unseen window on a slumped figure. As Arya watched, the figure stretched and sat up.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eragon turn his full attention to the figure.

"Oh! Hello there! They don't usually put new people near me, so forgive me if my conversation is a little rusty. I'm Myloto. I've been here for my entire life." Myloto waved in a friendly manner. Eragon waved back. "You probably want to know why you are here, and where you are. This is the fortress of the Menace of the North as he calles himself. He lives here with a few choice servants, concubines, and his current student. Whoever the current student is, he or she will be coming around to give us our morning meal soon. When he comes, be very respectful and whatever he does, don't say a word. If you w-" The sound of footsteps cut her off and she looked down the hallway.

A young man wearing a dark cloak came down the hallway with two plates in his hands. He slipped the food carelessly under Myloto's door, flipped back his hood, and walked over their shared cell. He crouched down and sneered. There was a long scar running down his face. "What do we have here? Is this the famed Eragon Shadeslayer?" He said mockingly. "And who's this pretty little trinket here, hmm. Might you be willing to share?" He stuck one dirty finger near Arya's face. She lunged forward, faster than the human eye and bit him, drawing blood. Then, before he could react she spat in his face.

The man tossed the food at Arya. He stood, turned on his heel, and walked back the way he came.

"That was very brave. What's your name?" Myloto asked, having finished her food.

"I am Arya." She figured it couldn't hurt. Myloto would clearly not help their captives. She picked up the food- a loaf or bread, some cheese, and a pitcher of water that had spilled some of its contents on the floor. She split the food between Eragon and herself. She ate quickly and stood.

First she checked the bars. After finding them to be sturdy, she began doing the Ringmar. As Eragon finished he stood and joined her. Afterward, they sat in front of the bars.

"Do you want to hear a story? I make them up to pass the time, but there's never anyone to share them with." Myloto asked hopefully. Arya nodded her consent, as did Eragon.

"Once there was little bird, who was flying high in the sky. But then one day storm clouds came. They smothered the little bird's world with darkness, and drove the bird away from her family into a small cave. The little bird was in the cave for a very long time, all alone. Then two other birds came to the cave. They became the best of friends while they were in the cave. Then, one day, the clouds cleared. The three birds flew out into the sunlight. They flew up high into the cloudless sky and lived, forever happy with each other." Myloto sat back, smiling. "What did you think?"

Eragon was the first to speak up. "That was beautiful. Would you like to hear one from my birthplace?" Myloto nodded eagerly, clasped her hands, and leaned forward. Eragon cleared his throat and began.

* * *

Arya turned her back on Eragon's sleeping form. She looked across to see Myloto looking at her intently. "Why are you so sad?" She asked.

"Why are you so happy? You're locked up in here for so long." Arya asked, genuinely curious.

"I know there's a world out there, and I know that every day the sun will rise. They don't know it, but sometimes I hear the birds singing, and once in a while snow will drift in. I was out there once. I remember it." Her eyes seemed far away, in the fields of childhood. "I would make men out of the snow and play with the animals. I had a fort in the forest near my house. And when I came back in, all wet and cold, my mama would make me soup. I miss my mama..." Myloto looked sad.

"I miss my mother as well." Arya said.


End file.
